In careless grace another lay, With gems and jewels cast away, Like a young creeper when the tread Of the wild elephant had spread Confusion and destruction round, And cast it flowerless to the ground. Here lay a slumberer still as death, Save only that her balmy breath Raised ever and anon the lace That floated o’er her sleeping face. There, sunk in sleep, an amorous maid Her sweet head on a mirror laid, Like a fair lily bending till Her petals rest upon the rill. Another black-eyed damsel pressed Her lute upon her heaving breast, As though her loving arms were twined Round him for whom her bosom pined. Another pretty sleeper round A silver vase her arms had wound, That seemed, so fresh and fair and young, A wreath of flowers that o’er it hung. In sweet disorder lay a throng Weary of dance and play and song, Where heedless girls had sunk to rest, One pillowed on another’s breast, Her tender cheek half seen beneath Red roses of the falling wreath, The while her long soft hair concealed The beauties that her friend revealed. With limbs at random interlaced Round arm and leg and throat and waist, That wreath of women lay asleep Like blossoms in a careless heap.”[36] --+GRIFFITH+ (bk. v., canto ix.). Still in eager quest of Sita the Vanar roamed stealthily from place to place within the spacious bounds of the royal palace, and, as day was breaking, entered the enchanting ashoka grove, a sort of ideal retreat in fairyland. Here Rama’s messenger discovered the weeping, but still peerless, captive, guarded by fierce she-demons of monstrous shapes--a weird, frightful troupe--some earless, some with ears hanging down to their feet, some one-eyed, some long-necked and covered with hair, some huge, some dwarfish, some with faces of buffaloes, others with the heads of dogs and swine. Perched upon a bough, and concealed by its foliage, Hanuman watched his opportunity to open communication with the object of his search. Presently Ravana, in great state, heralded by music and attended by a crowd of ravishing beauties, with tinkling zones, entered the grove. Sita, in utter despair, fell upon the ground “Like Hope when all her dreams are o’er.” Approaching her kindly, the King of Lanka, who was passionately enamoured of her beauty, endeavoured to reassure her, and wooed her softly with all the arts of flattery, with offers of boundless wealth, and with protestations of deep affection. “Methinks when thy sweet form was made His hand the wise Creator stayed; For never more could he design A beauty meet to rival thine. Come let us love while yet we may, For youth will fly and charms decay.” --+GRIFFITH.+